


in the subtext.

by trickstered



Series: Tragic Rockstar John [1]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe, Humanstuck, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-08
Updated: 2012-06-08
Packaged: 2017-11-07 07:50:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 607
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/428662
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trickstered/pseuds/trickstered
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You call him your boy. That’s all there really is to it; his name is Eridan, but he’s yours. Neither of you have really gone down and made this shit all official like, but there’s a silent agreement that he’s yours and you’re his. You don’t think either of you really need to say it. It’s plain in the way your hands brush when you walk, or the way your foot brushes his calve at lunch. It’s a motherfucking billboard sign of obviousness when you catch him off guard with a kiss to the side of his mouth or when he texts you at work and tells you he’s coming over.</p>
            </blockquote>





	in the subtext.

**Author's Note:**

> Drabble from an AU which isn't about these two at all, but they have the most stable relationship out of everyone also they are cute?? Welcome to Tragic Rockstar John, the AU where John is a rockstar. Gamzee is probably his drug dealer.

You call him your boy. That’s all there really is to it; his name is Eridan, but he’s yours. Neither of you have really gone down and made this shit all official like, but there’s a silent agreement that he’s yours and you’re his. You don’t think either of you really need to say it. It’s plain in the way your hands brush when you walk, or the way your foot brushes his calve at lunch. It’s a motherfucking billboard sign of obviousness when you catch him off guard with a kiss to the side of his mouth or when he texts you at work and tells you he’s coming over. 

Your boy is hunched over on your bed right now, hands secured round his phone likes it something all biblical sacred. He does this sometimes: gets up in the dead of dead and sits with his phone and taps away, all hunched into himself before he tosses it down into his bag and crawls back down beside you. He’s just got up. There’s no tapping tonight and he stays so very still. There’s no shred of light in your room except for the way his phone is a dim thing, highlighting his cheekbones at a strange angle. The whole this is eerie and you think he’s beautiful. You tell him that, more often than not. His ego is huge, but sometimes you think he doesn’t really believe you. It’s a sad shame of a thing, because he could very well be the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen.

He’s quiet too, except when he sighs. It’s a disappointed noise, all sad and resigned. You don’t like it. You’ve never asked who it is he chats with in the dead of night, but you decide they’re no good kind of motherfucker if they make your boy make that kind of noise. Anything that comes out of that mouth should be laughter.

Sitting up, you’re not a graceful type of man as you crawl towards him. He starts at the movement and doesn’t even look at you when you slide your arms around him from the back. Chest to his spine, you kiss a shoulder and you don’t say a word. He doesn’t either. The light takes two minutes to go out and half a minute more he spends with the phone in his hand before he tosses it into his bag. You hold him tighter and gets real tense and you think he might be ready to burst into sobs, but he doesn’t.

“Get some sleep, Gam,” he says his voice terse and rigid.

You kiss his shoulder again and then his neck and then below his ear. “Get some sleep, Eri,” you say back.

He settles his hands over yours and they’re shaking a little. He’s a bag of things you don’t really understand. No one bothered to get under the surface of him, but you know him better than anyone ever has. You kiss his cheek and he chokes on a noise that might be a laugh, but it could just as easily be a sob. “You’re such a fuckin’ idiot. It’s four in the fuckin’ mornin’, cod almighty.”

You smile, nuzzle in against his neck and shrug. After a moment, he sags. You think maybe he’s too tired to keep the tension up. You’re both silent for a while longer. Even as he turns in your arms to kiss your chin and push you down. Even when he wiggles against you and you move in, spooning up against his back. Neither of you say a word, but you don’t think you really have to.


End file.
